


A Helping Hand

by Wanderbird



Category: Danny Phantom, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28316361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wanderbird/pseuds/Wanderbird
Summary: Peter Parker goes on a vacation with his aunt to a town outside Amity Park, and ends up lending a hand- and seriously, what kind of maniac threatens to skin someone for no reason?!?
Comments: 4
Kudos: 135





	A Helping Hand

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty new to the phandom but it's been fun so far! I haven't had much time to write lately, so I figured I'd just do something quick and easy-- enjoy!

Peter wasn’t sure how to feel about his new vacation.

Aunt May had proposed it, since she and Peter hadn’t spent much time together in _months._ That part was nice. Aunt May was cool! And more importantly, Peter did love her, really, and he’d missed her lately. But on the other hand… small-town America? Really? He did understand the impulse to get out of the city, and maybe it would keep him from having to go do stuff as Spider-Man all the time instead of hanging out with his favorite aunt (heh, _hanging_ out). But still. This was kinda… boring. Peter didn’t want to just spend the whole time on his phone or a computer. Neither he nor May knew the rules for many card games, they hadn’t thought to bring board games, and they could only play Go Fish so many times in a row. It sure was relaxing, seeing the sights, and there was a larger town a few miles out—Amity Park, he thought it was called?

But now he couldn’t sleep.

So Peter took his backpack up from the floor, with his spidey-suit carefully tucked in the bottom just in case of trouble, and slipped out of the motel.

The night was soft and beautiful.

There were too many lights in New York, Peter realized. Not like here. The moon glowed in the sky, and behind it shone stars and stars—they were still obscured by all the electric lights, but less than Peter had ever seen them in the city. He didn’t even try to keep the grin from spreading across his face.  
A chill breeze wrapped around him, and Peter shivered.  
All of a sudden, he wasn’t just cold, he was _cold,_ and anxious, and his spidey-sense _screamed—_ something white streaked through the sky.

_“Stop following me stop following me stop following me—”  
_ Peter just barely caught the words. A moment later, a larger grey shape appeared out of nowhere, standing on nothing with a green sort of mohawk down its neck and a bulky, metallic piece of armor strapped to its shoulder over a black tank top. He had a… glowing green goatee? A choker with a skull on it? Dude was _weird,_ even by his standards.  
Unearthly green eyes fell on Peter.  
“Well, well.” The floating man murmured. “If you won’t come out on your own, I suppose I’ll have to motivate you.”

Peter stumbled back, but the floating man was quick. Before he even knew what was happening, an arm like steel wrapped around his waist and something round and cool and metallic pressed against his temple. Peter froze. _A… gun?_ At this range? Pointed at—the ground dropped away beneath him, and suddenly Peter latched on to that arm with something resembling a death grip. If the floating guy let go—there were no tall buildings here to save him, even though he never went anywhere without his web shooters anymore.  
“Oh, _Phantom!”_ the floating man called, though he didn’t even raise his voice. “Come out, come out, wherever you are, or I will shoot this human in my arms!” The barrel pressed against his head. “Or maybe I’ll skin him instead. Would you like that, child? Someone else to take your place at the foot of my bed?”  
 _On second thought,_ Peter decided, _fuck this._ He pointed one hand up toward the gun and pressed the button hidden on his palm—webs shot out from his wrist, hard enough to knock the gun aside. He wrapped his legs around the floaty guy long enough to land a solid uppercut, using the grip from his legs to actually generate some leverage. Floaty guy recoiled.  
“Ow!” That sounded more like surprise than pain, but Peter figured that was good enough. Of course, he also lost his grip on Peter, and Spider-Man let go himself, and then he was plummeting toward the concrete—  
And then he wasn’t.

  
“How’s it hangin’?” a voice asked from above him. Gloved hands set him gently on the ground, and Peter looked up to see… another stranger. His rescuer’s back was turned to stare at floaty guy, but they were short and spindly, dressed in some sort of black jumpsuit with white accents, and bright white hair. White gloves curled into fists at their sides. “ _Damnit, Skulker,”_ they muttered. There was a note of strain in that voice.  
“I thought that might be the bait to lure you out.” Floaty guy—Skulker?—smiled tightly. “Now I have the upper hand.”  
Jumpsuit stranger drooped. “Seriously? You’ve been trying to catch me _all night._ ”  
“And now you tire, little halfa.” Skulker replied. “Persistence is the mark of a good hunter, and I am the best hunter to ever live! I will hunt you for longer than you can run!”  
A sigh from jumpsuit. “I’m not gonna get any sleep tonight, am I?”  
Before jumpsuit could make a decision one way or the other, Peter grabbed their arm. “Hey,” he whispered. “Keep him distracted and I bet I can wrap that floaty guy up for you.”  
“What, really??” Jumpsuit turned their head to stare for a moment—and a bright light flashed. Peter shoved them both to one side just in time for a blast of something hot and sizzling green to singe the grass where they’d been standing.

Jumpsuit lunged—and then, impossibly, kept going, straight up in the air toward where Skulker floated. Peter felt jealous. He wished _he_ could fly. Jumpsuit let loose a beam of something from their—his—palm, and Skulker dodged it easily. But the stranger kept firing, and Skulker kept dodging, and bit by bit, forgot about the human standing on the asphalt.  
 _Now.  
_ Peter threw his hands forward and launched a web from both wrists. Skulker toppled backward with a curse. And jumpsuit pulled out what looked like a thermos from his belt, opened it, and— _sucked_ floaty guy in? It was disturbing to watch. Skulker’s body sort of—stretched, and distorted, and twisted to fit in the little aperture until he disappeared, and jumpsuit closed the thermos with a _click._  
Jumpsuit landed.  
And swayed.  
Trembling hands secured the thing-that-was-not-a-thermos at his belt, and jumpsuit turned to face Peter at last. He offered a tremulous smile. “Hey. Thanks for the help. I haven’t seen you around before.”  
Peter only stared _._ “Uh—” Those eyes, neon green and glowing, they just looked _wrong._ He’d read plenty of stories about magical protagonists with glowy eyes, but nothing had ever hinted at just how unsettling it would be in person, how shocking they were. “Hi?” he managed at last. "You can fly."

“I can! I’m, uh, I’m Phantom. From Amity Park. Nice to meet you?” Now that Peter looked closer, his rescuer didn’t seem to be in great shape. There was a big smudge of soot on one cheek, and green liquid dripping from a handful of cuts on his face, though Peter couldn’t see if he was hurt under the jumpsuit, either. He looked even younger than Peter. “Do you know what direction Amity Park is in? And like. How far away it is? I've been flying for a while, I think I've gotten kinda lost.”  
“Amity Park?” Peter blinked. Had the kid really come all that way? “It’s… yeah, I think it’s north of here.” He pulled out his phone, blinding light in the once-more-peaceful night. “Yeah, definitely. Straight north by about four miles. Did you—”

The kid was gone.

After a few futile minutes of searching for any trace of Phantom left behind, Peter Parker went back to bed.  
Maybe he and May could visit Amity Park tomorrow.  
  



End file.
